i'm falling for your eyes (but they don't know me yet)
by abbyli
Summary: Snow in Georgia was rare. So were snowball fights. So explain to him why he was in the midst of one with the younger Greene girl.


**entitled: **i'm falling for your eyes (but they don't know me yet)

**summary: **Snow in Georgia was rare and so were snowball fights. So explain to him why he was in the midst of a very competitive one with the younger Greene girl.

**pairing: **daryl/beth

**rating: **t

**disclaimer: **I do not own The Walking Dead or it's characters.

**notes: **Beware of the fluffy! Give a listen to Ed Sheeran's 'Kiss Me' while ya read.

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_**For Emilie (spaceshipdear)**_

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He couldn't fuckin' believe it.

It was snowing.

No snow in Georgia for the last fifteen years and of course it had to snow right freakin' now.

"Ya can borrow my scarf," Carol offers, holding up a fuzzy pink article of clothing that just looks like a hairy snake.

He raises a brow, shaking his head. "Naw, thanks."

Carol lowers it, her eyes darting to someone standing behind him. "Beth?"

"Sure, Carol," comes a voice. Small white hands reach out and take the scarf, wrapping it around her throat. He barely turns for fear that he will lose his temper at the sight of her face.

"No, no, no," he mutters, starting to shift on his feet. "Why her?"

"Why me what, Daryl?" Beth says sweetly.

"Dontcha think ya are a bit inexperienced t'be goin' on watch?"

Beth raises a brow. "Ya must b'jokin'."

"Far from it, sweetheart."

The blonde gives him a glare that would freeze the heart of Santa freakin' Clause before she pushes past him to the gates. He glances over his shoulder to where Carol is still standing and she shakes her head, holding up a hand. She wasn't gonna help.

With a grumble, he follows the blonde with the snakey scarf to the gates and follows her through. His crossbow slung neatly over his shoulder, his eyes search Beth's form for any kind of weapon. After a moment, he spots her pistol on her hip and her knife (that used to be his knife) on her other hip.

"Is there anythin' ya would like t'say t'me, Daryl?" Beth says after several moments of walking the perimeter in grouchy silence.

"Huh? Naw."

"Then kindly keep yer eyes off of my ass and on the land."

Fuck, did she have eyes in the back of her head or what?

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><p>Nearly a year had passed since that horrible day at Grady Memorial Hospital. Nearly a year since he had almost lost her forever.<p>

And since then, he had barely been near her.

In Daryl Dixon's mind, he believed that if he avoided the situation, the problem, the _person _he could make it go away. He remembered Beth's own words.

'_God forbid ya ever let anyone get too close.'. _

So he didn't get close again.

He hurt her. He hurt her greatly.

As much as that hurt him, he knew then - if anything else ever happened - maybe - _perhaps_...

No.

He watches her as she walks ahead of him, her whole body poised and alert. After she had recovered, Beth had immediately thrown herself into physical training. She had come to him but he had turned her down, directing her to Michonne.

He wouldn't help her. He couldn't because - oh, _god_.

While the weeks passed, he watched her from afar. He would remain stuck close to Rick or Carol like glue, ignoring their nudges and pushes to just own up to what he felt or even be near the blonde. He wouldn't.

But he sees. He feels her strength even from where he was.

She survived.

She was alive.

She was here.

Snowflakes continue to fall, finding a home on her leather clad shoulders. She turns just right and there is one resting on the tip of her nose. She brushes it away before he can even form a coherent thought and she looks his way.

"Why won't ya talk t'me?"

Those words cause him to stop right in his tracks. He shifts slightly, chancing whether he really wants to actually look her way because he knows if he does, he's hers.

He does.

And he's lost.

Daryl tries not to answer her, he really does.

"Daryl."

The sweet sound of his name on her lips - that's it.

Beth is gazing his way with those big blue doe eyes. Even after all the hell, all the bullshit, she could still bring him to his knees with those damn eyes.

He wants to rage at her. He wants to tell her everything he has felt in the past year plus because it was because of her that he felt that way. Because of her that he felt like maybe there was a damn reason to keep living.

The words won't leave his mouth. No matter how hard he tries, his lips remain stubbornly closed and he brushes past her gruffly, brushing her off like she is an irksome fly.

"We're suppos'd t'be on watch," he manages in response.

He hears her let out a small sigh of sorrow and winces because he's hurt her again. He keeps hurting her to protect his own damn heart and it's just not right.

And then -

Something cold and wet slaps into the back of his head with a sloshing sound. He nearly drops his crossbow as he turns around to see Beth holding another snowball in her gloved hand, gearing up to let it fly right towards his head.

"What d'hell?!" he growls, quickly slinging his bow onto his back. "What is yer problem?!"

"I want ya t'tell me!" Beth says, her voice cracking with emotion. She throws the next snowball and it bounces off of his chest, stinging his skin. Damn, the girl packs a hell of a arm.

"Tell ya what?!" he snaps, getting closer. He receives another frozen blob of snow, this time to his midsection. "Tell ya how much it hurt losin' ya?!"

That does it. The snowball stops and falls from her fingers.

"T'know that ya gettin' kidnapped was my fault?!"

"Daryl -" Beth tries to cut across but nope. He's on a fucking roll.

He stomps across the frosty ground, getting closer to her and more and more angry with each step. He stops when he is just a few inches away and for a brief moment, he feels himself getting tossed back in time to just a couple of summers ago. Being on the run, hiding and feeling so broken.

And then she gave him hope.

Hell, when he looked at her, he saw the fuckin' sun.

"And watchin' ya gettin' shot - thinkin' ya were dead -" This time it's his turn for his voice to crack. "It was my fault!"

"No, it wasn't!" Beth hollers back, reaching forward and grabbing the lapels of his jacket. "How couldja have known?"

"I coulda done somethin'!" he spits back but then it's over.

The whole thing is over.

He crumples against her like he is made of tissue paper, pulling her in so tightly he is sure he is going to break a couple of ribs. The emotion, all of the grief that he had been holding in for the past year since he had looked at her on the floor, blood seeping from her skull and believing that she was gone forever - all of that comes raging out. Her own arms wrap around his waist and this time he is able to bury his face in her hair and just feel her near.

She was here.

They both cry for what seems like hours and he is not the least bit ashamed.

At last, they pull away from each other. Maybe it's for air or maybe it's because if they hold on any longer, they will never be able to let go again.

Her fingers remain linked through his, just like that late afternoon at the funeral home. She begins to step back towards the camp, cocking her head.

"Perhaps we shoulda let Maggie and Glenn take watch," she says softly.

"Yeah," he agrees, bowing his head. "Maybe we shoulda."

Her other hand comes up, tapping ever so lightly underneath his chin and bringing his eyes up. She brushes his bangs out of his eyes and she smiles.

He gazes at her, unable to look away even if he wanted too. She still has her scars and she always will. Her survivor scars, streaking her cheeks. But the one, the small circular one at the base of her hairline, that was almost not a survivor scar. That was a hole, a wound that nearly destroyed them both.

That scar would always be a reminder of what had happened. But it was also be a symbol because...because they made it through.

Unable to stand it anymore, he pulls her in again. Their mouths meet softly, sweetly. It is a chaste kiss that says a hell of a lot.

"Let's go home, huh?"

He nods in agreement.

The campgrounds wasn't exactly home. Yeah, it was a place to stay for as long as they could with roofs over their heads and fireplaces to keep them warm. That worked out well. But home? Home isn't a place, it's a person.

And Daryl Dixon was home.

Her fingers slip from his and she begins to walk ahead, and he follows.

"Beth?"

She turns just in time to receive a large face full of snow.

She listens to the sounds of Daryl's laughter, true and glorious laughter and she relishes it, even though she's got freezing cold snow dripping off her face and down her front.

Once she gets her bearings, Daryl's already off and running and she's close behind. "Daryl Dixon, get yer ass back here!"

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><p><strong>I was going to make this a little longer but I thought, why mess with it? <strong>

**For the beautiful Emilie (spaceshipdear) who has made me a gorgeous fanfiction cover and is the Queen of Bethyl. Be sure to send her some love because she is a goddess. **

**Hang in there, my fellow Bethylers. There's still hope! The writers would have to be absolute fools to build up something absolutely breathtaking between these two characters for a whole season to just kill it and leave the fans royally pissed and even the actors quite upset. They wouldn't pull something like that because it would just cost them too much. There is no romantic relationship between Carol and Daryl, and even there were to be, **


End file.
